Janice Meredith eBook

Brereton paused in the opening of the box, as his
eyes rested on his love. “Would to Heaven,”
he exclaimed, “that I had my colours and the
time to paint you as you stand!”

Both relieved and yet more frightened, Janice, in
an attempt to conceal the latter feeling, remarked,
“I thought you had departed, sir.”

“Think you I’d rest content without farewell,
or choose to have one with the whole staff as witnesses?”
answered Jack, as he came forward. “Furthermore,
I had some matters of which to speak that were not
to be published to the world.”

“Mommy is—­”

“Where I’d have her,” interjected
the officer; “for what I have to say is to you.
First: I put the screws on old Hennion and Bagby,
and have their word that they will not push their
forfeiture bill, or in any other way molest you.”

“We thank you deeply, Colonel Brereton.”

“I rode to Brunswick and saw Parson McClave
yesterday afternoon, to bespeak his aid, and he says
he is certain you may live at peace here, if you will
not seek to be rigorous with your tenants, and that
he will do his best to keep the community from persecuting
you.”

“’T is glad news, indeed.”

“Knowing how you were circumstanced, I then
rode about your farms and held interview with a number
of your tenants and pleaded with them that they pay
a part of their arrears in supplies; and several of
the better sort gave me their word that you should
not want for food.”

“’T was most thoughtful of you.”

“Finally, I wrote a letter to your father, and
have sent it under a flag that was going to New York,
telling him that you were safe arrived at Greenwood.”

“Ah, Colonel Brereton, how can we ever repay
your kindness?” murmured the girl, her eyes
brightened and softened by a mist of unshed tears.

“’T was done for my own ease. Think
you I could have ridden away, not knowing what risk
or privation you might have to suffer in my absence?”

“’T is only the greater cause for gratitude
that you make your ease depend on ours.”

“That empties my packet of advices,” said
the aide; “and —­and—­unless
you have something to tell me, I’ll—­we’ll
say a farewell and I’ll rejoin the army.”

“Would that I could thank you, sir, as you deserve;
but words mean so little that you have rendered me
dumb,” replied Janice, feelingly.

“Can you not—­Have you nothing else
to say to me?” he begged pleadingly.

“I—­Indeed, I can think of nothing,
Colonel Brereton,” replied the maiden, very
much flustered.

“Then good-by, and may God prosper you,”
ended Jack, sadly, taking her hand and kissing it
gently. He turned with obvious reluctance, and
went toward the house, but before he had reached the
hedge he quickly retraced his steps. “I—­I
could not force my suit upon you when I found you in
such helplessness—­not even when you gave
me the purse—­though none but I can know
what the restraint meant in torture,” he burst
out; “and it seems quite as ungenerous to try
to advantage myself now of your moment’s gratefulness.
But my passion has its limits of control, and go I
cannot without—­without—­ Give
me but a word, though it be a sentence of death to
my heart’s desire.”